


Knitted Beauty - Day 19

by mycitruspocket



Series: My-Citrus-Pocket’s Advent Calendar 14/15 [18]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Christmas Presents, First Christmas, Knitting, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5476106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycitruspocket/pseuds/mycitruspocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’m terribly sorry, darling. I meant to warn you,” Eames mumbles beside him, sounding mildly terrified."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knitted Beauty - Day 19

**Author's Note:**

> Last year's Advent calendar now with new Inception drabbles on the days I missed last year. ;)  
> Crossposted [here on my blog](http://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/post/106143511528/my-fic-advent-calendar-2014-masterpost). 
> 
> Written for my dear Chasingriver.

“I’m terribly sorry, darling. I meant to warn you,” Eames mumbles beside him, sounding mildly terrified. There is a hint of insecurity in Eames’ eyes, as though he fears Arthur might bolt out the backdoor into the freezing English countryside when he sees the content of the present Eames’ mother has just handed to him.

Arthur smiles politely and carefully unties the red bow and then folds back the silver wrapping paper, aware that all eyes are turned on him.

Yeah, so if he’s perfectly honest with himself, it’s not the worst knitted jumper he’s ever seen - because that’s the one Eames is wearing right now. The one in Arthur’s lap isn’t an alarming shade of something that wishes it was gold and doesn’t have two huge dancing reindeers on the front; his jumper is a deep shade of indigo transitioning to a calming cream white towards the hemline, like snow coming to rest in drifts. There is a single broad line of snowflake motifs that reaches from shoulder to shoulder in the same cream tone - each one unique. Arthur would almost describe it as tasteful, as far as you can call knitted Christmas jumper tasteful that is.

He holds it up in front of him and the cut is surprisingly snug compared to Eames’s bulky one, the stiches masterfully neat and the incredibly soft wool definitely contains cashmere.

Eames clears his throat beside him, clearly nervous now because Arthur hasn’t actually said anything. He opens his mouth but before he gets out more than “Molly, this is…” Eames cuts him off.

“Alright, moving on. Mum, this is for you.” Eames hands her his gift and Arthur knows he’s trying to shift the attention from him and the jumper he’s holding aloft, towards Eames and his very heavy but poorly wrapped wooden picture frame.

While everyone is admiring Eames’ artwork - the stunning snowy landscape Arthur’s watched him paint these past few weeks - Arthur absentminded rubs the smooth sleeve of his new jumper against his cheek. It smells vaguely like the perfume he noticed on Molly earlier and he thinks about the time she must have spent making this gift just for him. She most likely put as much effort into it as Eames had put into his painting, her face just as determined to get it right and perfect to make the recipient happy.

So Arthur doesn’t waste any more time and quickly takes off his jacket, unbuttons his waistcoat and pulls the jumper over his head, not even caring if his hair gets messed up a bit in the process. The cheerful Eamesian mumble around him slowly subsides and he feels that he’s once again the centre of attention. With a playful smile on his lips he fixes his tie with one practiced move, straightens his cuffs and smooths down the jumper on his front with both hands, appreciating the softness against his fingers.

He hears Eames taking in a sharp breath of surprise and maybe something else and winks at him before looking at Molly.

“This fits perfectly Molly, how did you do this without taking my measurements? And it’s so soft, it’s 75% cashmere, isn’t it?”

All awkwardness forgotten, they spend the rest of the evening talking about the Eamesian Christmas jumper tradition. Molly tells him she always tries to match everyone’s preference in colour, size and material but that she can’t help that her husband and sons seem to be most fond of ridiculous motifs and awfully bright colours, and how much she enjoyed designing this one more elegant and less gaudy.

*

When Eames snuggles close to Arthur that night he kisses his temple fondly.

“Thanks for playing along tonight, love. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you Rowling basically based Molly Weasley on my mum.”

“Who?” Arthur asks innocently, but he’s not able to stifle a laugh because of course he remembers Eames making him watch all the Harry Potter movies throughout December.

Eames laughs out loud against Arthur’s chest and smothers him in kisses.

“Absolutely mad is what you are. You like my mum’s knitting for fucks sake, and I thought you were going to kill me if anyone suggested you try it on.”

“Well, I thought it was a nice gesture to welcome me into the family, something I just didn’t expect.” Arthur runs his fingers through Eames’ messy hair contently and ads “She’s going to knit me something every time she gets the chance, isn’t she?”

“She absolutely will and it’s your own fault for being so bloody lovely about it all.”

“Ah well, there are worst things than ugly clothes that aren’t actually ugly.”

“See, that’s one of those things I thought I’d never, ever hear you say, darling.”

“That’s the Baileys talking. Also, most of your clothes are actually ugly, you know.”

“But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, I do. And that’s not the Baileys talking.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by chasingriver: "My mum knitted you a jumper!"


End file.
